Leading to Acceptance
by MusicalCatharsis
Summary: “Your father made me like this.” She whispered before placing her hand on his cheek and leaving it there for a moment. He leaned into her touch before she yanked her cold hand away.


**Denial**

Her body rocked back and forth as the tears rolled down her cheeks. The letter in her hand was something that could not be taken back. They were gone, Mum, Dad, and little Sam. Her family, completely wiped out with a few spells, she cried. The tears were so hot that they burned her cheeks. She denied the entire thing to all of her friends. Hermione Granger refused to be an orphan. She was crouched in a small alcove in the library, her knees pulled to her body, her chin resting lightly on her knee caps. The hour was late, too late, so her sobbing echoed throughout the library. In her mind she cringed at the thought of someone finding her in this state of mind. She stopped crying for a moment and looked down the aisle, she sensed another presence, but she could see no one.

"Harry? Ron?" she asked silently. They could be the ones she felt. The Invisibility Cloak could cover both of them but their backs would be hurting soon. The silence continued, she returned to crying. Her body was fatigued, not wanting to continue on with the tiring escapade. Her mind on the other hand, wanted to scream and rant and run. Hermione Granger, for the first time in her life, wanted to run from her problems. The scorching tears continued to run silly races down her cheeks, her slightly cold hands roughly wiped them away. Orphan. The word kept repeating in her mind. Lucius Malfoy. He had killed her family. She needed revenge.

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The boy stood in the aisle under the Invisibility Cloak. He heard her sobs and could not bring himself to perform his task. He would just have to lie. He would have to tell his Lord that she was no where to be found. Silently he turned, leaving Hermione Granger to her sorrow. He could not kill her that night.

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Harry and Ron noticed that Hermione was changing, her grades were dropping, her hair lost its entire frizz, she never smiled anymore, and she didn't even read any books. Hermione was not Mione anymore: she was lost, to herself, to her friends, to the world. Hermione Granger did not exist. And that made them sad, what would they do without their best friend?

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Her hair became limp around her shoulders as she did not wash it in what seemed like weeks. Each day that passed by was torture, she pretended. Her smiles continued to make up her world; she was pretending to be a perfect girl. At night, however, the tears fell down her cheeks. Each night he would try to kill her like he had been ordered, but each night he could not. Her sobs echoed through out the library, and deepened the gash in his heart. He couldn't help but to feel sorry for her. She was an orphan and he was the only one that knew. His father was the one to blame, but he had the timely duty to kill her. And, still, after five months of trying, after five months of her crying, he still could not find it in his slowly melting heart to kill her. Her emotions ran so deep, while his so shallow, that he wanted to be closer to this person. Each time that he listened to her cry, he felt his world crumble.

With each tear she was ruining his life. At the same time, she was making everything clear to him, somehow without even talking civilly Hermione and Draco became friends. She would cry and he would watch her. But during the day, they were in denial. During the day nobody was the same. All of Hogwarts' students were pretending. But they, those two, with vengeance and revenge coursing through their veins, were in denial.

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**Depression**

Hermione smiled when she needed to but that was the end of her smiling. Her homework lay forgotten after every class. The teachers were calling her into meetings and sending her parents' letters that she received instead. Each time she closed her eyes she saw them all, smiling, happy, vibrant, and then in the next instant she saw them lifeless, cold, dead. Her train of thought always strayed. Each and every day she couldn't wait for the sun to set so that she could recede into herself. She cried all the time now. Hermione sunk deeper into herself and at this moment in time…nobody could pull her back out.

Sure she still pretended, how could she not? But they all were starting to see. Nobody would talk to her the way they used to. Everybody was walking on eggshells around her. She snapped at everybody and as an effect she lost most of her friends. One stayed though, one that she didn't even know about. He stayed, and each night he would watch her sink deeper into her depression. She was slowly killing herself. She no longer ate, she no longer slept. She showered for hours on end, trying to drown herself. She was gone from the world.

Nothing mattered to her anymore. Her reason for living was murdered. She didn't belong anywhere. She was an orphan….How do you come back from that?

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He watched her sink deeper into her mind. Her hazel eyes had lost their shine; she was no longer Hermione Granger, Witch extraordinaire. She was Hermione Granger, Witch in Depression. His thawed heart cringed while he watched her cry. The Mudblood was hurting and he did not like it. Something was wrong…he did not kill her that night. January 22, Hermione Granger was still alive and Lord Voldemort was becoming very upset.

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She tapped her quill against the desk as she stared blankly at the board in Transfiguration. A note slid onto her desk and she ignored it. The note disappeared. The words on the note appeared on the board. She ignored them. The person trying to tell Hermione Granger something gave up and continued to the lesson.

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She sat by herself at the end of the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Her eyes were trained on one window and she never noticed the fight that broke out all around her.

"Get the MUDBLOOD!" she heard someone roar before she removed herself from the table and walked out of the hall. They all stared at her. He walked out after her. She walked around the school seven times before the sun set and he felt that it was safe to make his move. As she slowed down he rushed forward and grabbed her arm, too roughly. She kept walking. He yanked her back. She looked from his hand on her arm to his gray eyes and started to cry. Immediately she collapsed into him and beat his chest with her tiny fists. Each time he winced from the pain she inflicted but he allowed her to cry onto his chest.

After a while she stopped and pulled back, looking disgusted and yet indifferent to what she had done.

"Your father made me like this." She whispered before placing her hand on his cheek and leaving it there for a moment. He leaned into her touch before she yanked her cold hand away. That night she cried again, but not for all the same reasons.

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**Hatred**

You could say that Hermione hated Lucius Malfoy, but that would be the understatement of the year. She loathed the fucking bastard. He took the only thing that kept her going. She returned home for Easter and there was an empty home. Everything was exactly the way it was the day they all died. Everything was the same…but then again it wasn't.

He stood in her foyer watching her look around the rooms. Slowly he walked forward.

"Hermione." He stated to her. She cocked her head but did not move an inch. She was entranced by the home around her. Something was wrong with the way she was silent. She broke down, her knees hit the carpet and her hands flew to her face. She sobbed. He walked to her and held her closely. She sobbed into his chest and slapped him a few times across his face. She hated the entire Malfoy clan, and he was no different. She slapped him again, and again, and again, finally he held her closer to him and she stopped slapping him. She clung to his shirt collar and he stroked her hair.

"It'll be okay." He whispered, not even believing himself. She lifted her head and he took the opportunity. His lips slowly placed themselves onto hers and she did not respond. He kissed her and she stayed still. She felt nothing, just the hatred that flew through her veins. Her suffering was his pleasure, but he still could not kill her. He pulled away and glared at her.

"God Hermione; kiss me." He pleaded. She just stared at him as he placed his lips on hers again. She kissed him back this time, but not with passion, with hatred. She bit his lip as he roughly pushed her back onto the carpet. She bit his lip again as he pinned her down. She slapped him as he bit her neck. He tore her shirt from her body as she roughly removed his belt. His warm mouth covered her breasts and bit down hard. She needed to feel something, and if it was pain mixed with pleasure. He was going to give it to her. Hard.

She flung him off of her body and punched him in the face. He brought his face to hers and kissed her roughly, knocking their teeth together. His gums bled and she licked some off of his bottom lip. She never said anything as his hand reached up to tear off her skirt. She punched his bare chest and he growled. Everything was right, but then again, everything was so wrong. She needed to feel something. She consented, he could tell by the look in her eyes. He knew that she was a virgin but he was not gentle. He plunged his member into her core and she screamed…with pain? With pleasure? With hatred? She screamed.

The battle raged on the carpet, they fought with their bodies, for the first time in their lives. No words were used. Bite marks, blood, scratches, bruises, screams, it was all a battle. One that he lost, because he was playing with his heart and she was playing for revenge. She would get what she wanted. She slapped him in the face again and he growled. He bit her nipple and yanked it up; she screamed and punched him on the side of the head. He bit harder and she punched harder. His lips, covered in her blood, her lips, covered in his blood, smashed together before they both released whatever substances they were holding back. They collapsed onto the foyer carpet and panting for breath continued to beat each other. She would always win, always.

Tequila, the drink that makes everybody make mistakes, they drank four bottles that night. And they never made a mistake. It was all much needed, and Hermione was finally coming back to herself.

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**Silence**

The battlefield stretched out before her. She had been hit many times, but little did she know that she was supposed to be dead. She wore black robes, like everybody else. A phoenix on her back. She smiled into the face of death, she laughed at it. How dare Death think that it could take her? She was above that…she was above pain…she was above this stupid battle. Throwing her head back she screamed and shot a killing curse at several Death Eaters. Her death toll shined on the right arm of the black robes. 1,389. She laughed as the toll climbed higher. She was merciless. Then she saw him as he smiled at her. She smiled at him and killed another three of her peers. He laughed and pointed to her. She pointed back.

Blood was smeared on her face, but she never looked anymore beautiful. Her hazel eyes slowly regained their color, and she was gaining her friends back. That was after she explained everything to them. She cried on their shoulders and they promised not to touch Lucius Malfoy. That kill belonged to her. 1,999. Then she saw him. The long blonde hair was highlight with blood and dirt.

"_Mudblood." _She hissed and charged forward. As he turned around she said the words and he died at her feet. 2,000. She fainted.

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Her eyes opened and the silence consumed her. She was still on the battle field and there were no sounds from anywhere. Slowly, she removed herself from the blood caked ground and looked around. She spotted them all on a rock. Three survivors. And her.

Harry Potter

Draco Malfoy

Ginny Weasley

Hermione Granger

Their eyes locked in time, and silence settled in between them. He was the first one to move. His hand touched her cheek gently before she slapped him. He leaned down to kiss her and she allowed him to, this time she slid her arms around his neck. She bit his lip, something about them would always be rough. Nothing was _fluffy and perfect _between them. They had to work for everything. They had to work for them. 2,000. The number glowed on her arm and she sighed. He traced the numbers and looked at his own death toll. 200. She would always be better than him.

"Who was Number 200?" she asked him quietly.

"Snape."

"2,000?" she looked him directly in the face and smiled. He knew without her saying it. She smiled for the first time in ten months. They walked hand in hand to the train.

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**Acceptance**

She kept the rug from the foyer because it would always hold good memories for her. She burned the house that she had lived in for seventeen years, and then collected the insurance money. She bought a house on the outskirts of Wiltshire, where Draco moved in with her. They fought about everything, always sported bruises, but they didn't complain. They were content with their relationship. They accepted it. They acknowledged it.

That felt right between them.

Draco burned his home and collected the insurance. He bought Hermione the most expensive car and engagement ring. They were married the next summer. Before they kissed she slapped him across the face and he bit her lips. Harry had given her away and Ginny had been her Maid of Honor.

There are no happy endings here. They lost their first child because Hermione was injured on the job. Draco hunted the man who had hurt her and killed him. They never talked about it. The baby was supposed to be a girl. Hermione died a little inside until she was pregnant again. Then she smiled.

To this day, they still fight. They punch, kick, scream, bite, and slap. Even in public. But everybody knows that for those two, it's easier than admitting that they love each other.

Stubborn: that's what they are. Even now, with their three children they have never said I love you. It's understood. They know that the feeling is there, why say them all the time.

Like I said there are no happy endings here.

Nothing was _fluffy and perfect _between them.


End file.
